


The Tiny Over Lord and His Proud Father

by VANDARA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Oblivious Tom Riddle, Other, Pining Harry Potter, existential crisis at a young age, rightfully so the man was drugged for gods sake, tiny over lord tom riddle, tom riddle is confused by affection, tom riddle sr is afraid of women
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VANDARA/pseuds/VANDARA
Summary: Tom Riddle Sr was bothered by what that Witch had said. A child, his child, out there in the world all alone. Paying for the sin their Mother had done. That just would not do.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 33
Kudos: 439





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This a bit of an experiment. Check out The Glass Serpent and the Dark Horse by Kaede Ravensdale, which inspired this story

Tom Riddle Sr felt his throat clench as they drove closer and closer to their destination. Rain clouds were brewing outside but he paid it no mind, a thunderstorm was already raging within him. 

What would he do when he first lays his child?

Would he be as welcoming to his flesh and blood as he thought he would be?

Would they look like him or that Witch?

Tom Sr shivered at the idea. He doesn’t believe he would be able to fully accept the child if they looked like that women, the one who had drugged him all those years ago. However, he had not spent the last few years searching relentlessly just to deny them for something they had no control over. No matter what, he will care for and raise them.

“We have arrived, Master Riddle.”

Tom Sr nodded as the door was opened, stepping out into the dreary, suffocating London air and depressing atmosphere of the city a reflection of the troubling times. After three knocks he was greeted by a young Matron who, after giving him a once over, batted her lashes and gave a wide smile.

“Why, Hello there,” She let out a shrill giggle, “To what do I have the pleasure of helping you with today, good Sir?”

He suppressed an uncomfortable shudder as he walked through the door, not at all enjoying the women being behind him as she shut the door.

“I’m here to inquire about a child, whom I believe to be my own.”

She frowned, not at all hiding her disappointment.

“Well, we receive many children. What with the times, you see? May I have the name?”

He was led into an office, it being just as depressing as any other part of the Orphanage. He grimaced at the grey surroundings.

“I don’t have a first name, nor do I know the gender.”

“A last name should do it"

Tom Sr mulled it over. Would his child have his name or the Witches?

“Riddle should be the last. If not Riddle then try Gaunt.”

The Matron froze, the blood visibly draining from her face. Tom Sr was secretly amused, should he be worried that his kin is that much of a devil to the orphanage?”

“Y-yes. We do have a young boy who goes by Riddle. A young boy of 12 named Tom Riddle.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, not at all paying mind to the obviously terrified Matron.

A son.

He had a son.

The search was over for him. He can finally make amends and raise his son, raise him to be better than his parents. Grinning, he turned back to the women with an expectant look, not missing the distrusting eyes that now followed his every move.

“Well? Where is he? Where is my son?”

Swallowing thickly, she gathered some papers with shacking hands. “U-Unfortunately, he had just gotten back from his school abroad so he is currently resting. If you’d like, we can fill out the necessary paperwork while he sleeps. We would very much like for the two of you to be on your way.”

Not at all appreciating the implications, Tom Sr pulled out a pen while eyeing her.

“How is he, what is my son like?”

She grimaced, obviously not enjoying the situation she found herself in, “He’s…. A wonder, that much is for sure. Doesn’t very much enjoy the children his age, or any age for that matter.”

Tom Sr chuckled. His boy was growing up to be just like himself.

“Academic wise, is he alright?”

She relaxed just a bit, “He’s exceptionally bright for his age. He’s gone through our whole library, we suspect he is at the level that of a young adult already. I’d say that his incredible mind is one of the reasons why he doesn’t connect well with anyone.”

He snorted, “Perhaps they just aren’t smart enough for him.”

“Perhaps…” She trailed off, swallowing the lump of nerves that had lodged itself in her throat. The action itself was harder than she would like to admit.

“And what of this school? What is the name of it? I’d like to know if there would be need of me to transfer him to somewhere closer.”

She furrowed her brows, “I’m afraid, for the life of me, I can’t quite recall it’s name. Hornburry? Hegsworth? Something of that sort.”

Tom Sr felt his pen curve slightly with the force of his grip. “You send my son to a school, one that requires a travel which tires him out, one that causes him to be away from this forsaken place for months, and you can’t even be bothered to remember it’s name?”

The Matron felt a shiver run through her body but, unlike earlier, there wasn’t an ounce of pleasure.

“I- Sir, it isn’t from a lack of trying! Believe me when I swear that I had tried to remember it. I even remember that strange old man who had come to introduce it to him! I remember everything of that encounter I had with him, everything but the name of the school.”

“A strange old man recruiting my young son, who was an orphan at the time, and taking him to a school far away? One you can’t even remember? And you aloud this?”  
Tom Sr felt his blood race and palms sweat. Was this parental rage?

He slammed the papers on to the desk, startling the women.

“As you can see, I have finished the paperwork. I trust any issues that arises can be solved over the telephone?”

She nodded. Tom Sr straightened his suit jacket, “Good. Lead me to him.”

Exiting the room, he was lead down a long hall. It seemed like time slowed down. The wall stretched for miles as he counted the seconds. Will his son accept him?  
He hoped so. He truly hoped that he would be forgiven for the abandonment he had caused because, in the end, he had truly abandoned his flesh and blood. Never has he ever tasted such bitterness as he does now, when he fully realized on what he had missed out on. His childs first steps, first laughs, first words. His sons brilliance as he rose above the other children. 

He will be there for him. He will take over the role that was rightfully his, the role that he was meant to have all those year ago.

They stopped in front of the very last door, the room that was the furthest from the Matrons office. Sucking a breath, he nodded his head to her. She gritted her teeth, obviously not at all enjoying having to interact with his son. No matter, he and his young boy will be out of this poor excuse of a childs sanctuary.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom rolled his wand between his thumb and fingers, the slender wood gently massaging the soft pads. The school year had been as magical as it was a nuisance. His year mates were a fickle bunch, both recognizing his potential and his blood.

Had he known those two qualities would clash he would have distanced himself from those lowly cretins from the start.

That was entirely untrue, clearly, but one can only dream.

He knew he was above those children. He knew he was different the moment that meddling Dumbledore flashed him the look of cautioned horror when Tom revealed his connection to snakes.

Tom scoffed, for a preacher of light the old man sure was biased.

Clenching his jaw, he stashed his wand back in his sleeves, moving to unpack the rest of his books. He knew no one would dare to come near his room, that was the whole reason his was the furthest from Miss Coles office.

Rapid knocking caused his brow to twitch.

Well now, this was new. He hoped it wouldn’t be another unfortunate soul being forced to share his room. It never ended well.

“Tom, you have a visitor.” She said through the door.

He stayed silent, only ever having one and only annoying visitor. She must have taken his silence as a que because she harshly opened the rickety door, the hinges rattled from the rusty nails. Standing behind her was a tall, handsome man. His hair curled in a charming, gentlemanly way to the side of his head, a single curl touching his brow. The mans jaw was sharp with pale skin and piercing dark eyes. Those eyes, now, were slightly wide and watching his every move.

The man looked just like him. Or rather, Tom looked just like this man. Remarkably so, he would say.

So much so, he can hardly say it was a coincidence.

Narrowing his eyes Tom watched as they invaded his room further, causing his hairs to raise.

“Tom, meet your visitor. Mr. Tom.”

The man snorted in amusement as Tom quickly masked his annoyance. Keeping the image of a perfectly tamed orphan boy, he stood and closed the distance while sticking his hand out.

“Pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

The man ignored the hand, instead choosing to blatantly stare at his face. Tom resisted the urge to squirm, had he mistaken his approach?

No, can’t be. Any person coming to an orphanage were weak against this mask. He’d seen people run away from their doors, to upset that they couldn’t take all of the sniveling creatures. Then again, this man could be one of those types.

The man seemed to find what he was looking for before finally taking hold of Toms hand, shaking it in a gentle but firm grip.

“Thank you, Miss. I believe I can take it from here now.”

Lips thinned into a fine line, Miss Cole left him with a complete stranger. No surprise there if he had been completely honest. The stranger chose to take a seat by the table, sitting cross legged as he eyed Toms luggage. Tom stayed facing the man as he re packed his books, being careful to hide the titles from him. The man tilted his head into his hand, interest clean in his sharp eyes.

“How is the school? I was told it was quite far.”

Tom stayed careful to keep his mask on, feigning surprise. “It is. I enjoy it, though. I’ve learned more than I could imagine.”

The stranger hummed, “Have you eaten? I imagine the ride back was not the best.”

Tom shook his head, “Dinner will be soon.”

The man tensed, uncrossing his legs as he looked Tom straight in the eyes. Tom was struck with their similarities. The sharp, dark eyes, straight nose, thin lips, and aristocratic cheek bones. They were spitting images of each other.

“You won’t be eating here tonight. Or any time in the future, in fact.”

Tom let out a huff, “Am I right to assume you will be taking me in?”

The man nodded, still unsure how to go about his next words but was determined.

“It’s something I should have done years ago. I’ve been searching for so long, searching for you.”

Tom felt his breath leave him as his hands trembled.

“Tom, my name is Tom Riddle. I am your father and you are my son. I’m here to bring you home.”

Tom took shaking steps towards him, keeping his eyes steady on the man. He used to waste nights imagining this man would come knocking on his door like today. It felt more surreal then his dreams.

“Am I to expect someone like you, someone so obviously muggle, could be my father?” Tom gritted out. He felt more foolish then anything. Here he had expected that his father was a powerful wizard, someone who had powerful blood running through his veins. Tom Sr sighed as he leaned in closer to Tom. He had expected this reaction, but it still stung. His son is justified to be upset with him.

“I understand the anger. I understand the resentment. I am more then willing to do anything to show you I am who I say I am but no matter what you are not staying another night in this disgusting place.”

Tom schooled his expression back to disinterest, “Then I suppose I should get back to packing.”

Tom Sr nodded, “The car is in the front. There is no rush, but I imagine you would like to have a bite to eat. Little Hangleton I quite far.”

His son ignored him in favor of retrieving what little he had left to pack. A thick cloud of tense silence resumed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I think of Senior I think of Henry Cavill

The ride was as tense as the current outside world, a cloudy atmosphere stifling Toms lungs. They sat in the back while the driver hummed a quiet tune, the only barer being a a thick invisible wall of loathing. 

On Tom’s end, at the very least.

“Did you enjoy the dinner? I was not quite sure what you like, you have been incredibly quiet.” Senior mused at the end, leaning his head into his hand against the window. Tom kept his gaze towards his window, feigning interest at the fading buildings and growing greenery.

Everything is a little brighter outside of London, he noticed.

“It will be hard for you, this transition of life and education. You will have tutors and an Au Pair assigned and guide you through our ways in the House of Riddle.”

Tom whipped his head around and sneered, “I will continue to attend Hogwarts.”

Senior turned to look down at his son, gaze still steady but softened. “I will admit, I am hesitant to send you to this… Hogwarts. I have never heard of a place, will you share some stories with me?”

“Of course you, a muggle, would know nothing about a place like Hogwarts. It’s only the best of the best of Wizarding schools.”

Senior sat up in alarm, “You’re a wizard, Tom?”

“Yes, I am. I suppose that I had gotten it from mother then, who would have thought.”

Silence filled the space once again, awkward and cold as opposed to its thick air from before. Seniors jaw clenched before inquiring again, “What is it like? The school, I mean. I imagine that you had a wonderful time.”

Tom pursed his lips and turned back to the window. Senior sighed before facing his own scenery, accepting the failed attempt at knowing his son.

“It was something I never imagined, the good and bad. The institution and Hogwarts itself is incredible. The students are fickle, my peers even more so.”

Senior let out a tiny smile, so small it seemed like an illusion, “Why would that be? Could it be that you’re better than those children?”

Tom felt a bubbling of giddiness that was immediately stomped out. Something so small deserves no recognition. He stayed silent and leaned his head against the window. Sighing silently, Senior shrugged.

“Get some sleep, Son. We’re still a way away from Hangleton.”

Against his will, Tom slept. Senior watched.

Senior thinks and all was quiet.

_______________________________________________________________________

Riddle Manor and the land was grand with blooming flowers and greenery that gave it an authentic, aristocratic sophisticated air. Senior walked up the steps carrying Tom, dismissing the servants who offered. As expected, the doors opened only to for the face of Lord Riddle to stare eye to eye with Senior. Holding Tom tighter, Senior entered the home.

Lord Thomas Riddle, a proud man of tall stature who held skill above everything. This proud man stared at his grandson then at his own son, pinning him with an expectant gaze.

“I will explain after I drop Junior off to his room.”

Lord Riddle let out a hum before turning to walk down the hall with his hands behind his back, “Meet me in my study, son. We have much to discuss.”

Senior let out a breath before heading to the room that was prepared for Tom, the room that was always prepared to be used one day.  
As he tucked Tom in, he ran his had along his sons hair gently. It was dark and had a slight curl to it, just like his own. He was the spiting image of himself. He could rest now.

The search was over, his child was home.

_________________________________________________

His fathers’ study was lit only by a fire, the smell of tobacco wafted the air along with brandy. Lord Riddle was facing the window overlooking the grounds as Senior took his seat, pouring his own glass of whiskey.

“I must admit, I never thought you would find your son.” The Lord took a deep waft of his cigar and breathed out a sigh, his shoulders sagging and years of work leaving him as he was, an old man.

“Son, I will admit that I only left you to your own devices because it was your mothers wishes. She still treats you as a boy. But that will have to change, as will my own treatment of you.”

Thomas turned away from the window and put out the cigar, walking to Senior and laying his hand on his shoulder, his grip firm, “You are now a father and I am proud of you. Raise him well for he will carry the Riddle name one day.”

Senior sucked in a shallow breath and nodded, “He has magic just like his mother. He wants to go back to his institution.”

Thomas scoffed and downed the rest of his brandy, “Your sanity is still in question. I will say once more that magic is not real but I will trust your judgment. Raise your son well.”

With that the Lord of the house left for bed, leaving Senior to his lonesome. 

The fire danced while Senior drank.


End file.
